A Purim Story
by Team Dragon Star
Summary: When his favourite bar is closed down, Yamcha is forced to look elsewhere for alcohol. He soon stumbled upon a party of Jews, celebrating their deliverance with much alcohol.


Yamcha wandered the streets of East City. Puar hovered behind him in sympathy. His favorite bar had just closed due to a violation with the servicing law. The owner had some choice words when he showed up that night to go drinking. Now here Yamcha was in the streets. He accidentally stepped in a to deep puddle and the cold water dampened his sock. He cursed and hopped onto the sidewalk. As he glanced at the store windows, he smelled some wine. Yamcha stopped for a second. The smell wafted around him as he looked around trying to figure out where the origin of the smell was. He expected to see some drunk with a bottle or a few frat boys celebrating something stupid. However the baseball player saw nothing.

"Puar can you smell that?"

"What Yamcha?"

"Its wine, and good stuff, too. Do you see where it is coming from?"

"I didn't even smell it."

"Well, it must be coming from somewhere."

"Just move on, Yamcha, we can find an actual bar."

"No, no, Puar, we must find out where that smell is coming from. It couldn't be a homeless man; it's to good. Say, is there anything on this road, not a shop?"

"There is a synagogue down the street, but they wouldn't have alcohol."

Yamcha brushed off this objection and walked towards the synagogue. To his surprise, the windows were awash with light. Inside, several rings of black-hatted men whirled around while singing a song. Several more were drinking the wine he had smelled while playing cards. Yamcha turned to Puar triumphantly, "What did I say?"

"Why would they let you in though?"

"I have an idea." Yamcha thought for a second and then turned to fly home. Arriving there, he went down to his wine cellar and got a few bottles of good, though not his best, wine. Slipping his deck of cards into his pocket, he flew back to the synagogue. Reaching it, Yamcha knocked on the door. An obviously drunk jew came over to the door and opened it.

"You 'ere fo' Purim?"

"Yep!"

"I don't recognize you, shmuck. 'et out."

"Wait, I come with wine."

"Well vhy di'nt ya say so! Bring ya schtick in 'ere ya putz!"

Yamcha entered the synagogue. The music flowed around him as he went to where the alcohol was. He placed his bottles down as an obviously drunk chazan came over.

"Hey we got a gentile!" He slapped Yamcha on the back. "Lets see how he dances! Gentile, you know any of our dances?"

Yamcha thought for a moment. Surely he had to know at least one Jewish folk dance. After the quick search through his memories, Yamcha remembered nothing. However, he had heard one Jewish folk song, Hava Nagila. He figured that the dance wouldn't be to hard.

"Hava Nagila!"

"Of course the putz knows that one. Band! Hava Nagila!"

The band started playing a slow melody, and he was roped in. He looked around at their feet and quickly got the hang of the steps, first step in front, then step behind. It was actually really easy. Then the chazan yelled, "Faster!" The music sped up as the black hats spun more wildly. Several other people in the group yelled out for more. The accordionist paused for a second, then let loose. Even with his martial arts training Yamcha began to lag a little behind. He hoped that the cry of faster wouldn't happen again.

He would be disappointed. The chazan yelled for the band again, and that was it. Yamcha quit dancing and just allowed himself to whirl around. Realizing he couldn't go any faster, Yamcha quickly removed himself from the dance to the laughter of the men still spinning. He stumbled over to a chair at the edge of the room and sat there for a second allowing the world to stop spinning. Yamcha then stood up and headed for the reason he had came to this party, the alcohol. Several Jews were gathered around the table drinking. One had out a book and the group was discussing it loudly and violently. He sat down near the group and poured himself a glass, before eavesdropping on their talk.

Despite listening to what they were saying for five or so minutes, Yamcha still could not understand what they were talking about and why this was the topic they had chosen for their discussion. Part of what they were saying wasn't even in his language. What was a 'rasha' anyhow? What he could hear seemed to be about building walls and who they belonged to depending on the direction they faced. One camp said that the Mishnah declared that a mark should be made on the outside, while the rest were convinced it should be on the inside. The discussion was getting more heated, and another man coming over and asking about another passage merely worsened the problem.

Then another black hatted man came in through the door, bearing several bottles. His build, unlike that of the other men, was that of a warrior. He threw his hat to the crowded rack and it landed perfectly. He went over to the table and was welcomed by all. For a few minutes the discussion improved as a sober member had joined them. But as he also had become tipsy and the discussion reverted back to the previous state.

Finally, Yamcha thought he understood what they were saying and he ventured a question, "Why not build the wall half painted one color?"

The Jews looked at him. One then replied, "Because that is too expensive!" Another, who had been in the opposite camp interjected, "No, this could be the mark that our Mishnah mentions."

"However, a smaller mark would be much cheaper."

"But it would much easier copied and made to look identical to the other."

A different man interjected into the discussion saying, "Then what is to stop your neighbor from painting his side identical to yours?"

The first man responded, "Because it is too expensive."

Another expounded, "Why is everything about money? Money this, money that, our Mishnah couldn't mean this because it is too expensive."

"Because the more money I save, the more money I can give in tzeddikah."

"Then give to the mitzvot."

"Why paint the whole fakakta wall when you can make a small mark for less."

At this point a fourth Jew jumped in to the conversation saying, "We just went over this they can copy the mark."

"Then they can paint the wall as well."

The second jew responded, "But it will cost too much to copy."

"That is my point, it would cost too much."

Another one responded, "Possibly for you, but for him, half the bricks could be worth the cost of the paint. But surely one could tell, don't you look at your walls and thus would see the new paint?"

"Shtup the bricks, that still isn't what our Mishnah meant."

The third jew rejoined the conversation declaring, "Wait, what if the wall is on the far side of your property?"

The guy who had walked in earlier commented, "Shouldn't you check on the walls often enough for you to be able to see the new paint?"

They looked at him and then one shrugged and said, "He is right, we are supposed to maintain our property and thus we must see if we need maintenance. If we need to make sure that we take care of the small parts of our house and property, how much more so then should we take care of a wall."

"No no no, it would cost too much time to look at a brick wall so often, it is brick, brick does not need as much maintenance as wood."

With these words the first tossed back the rest of his drink, "Speaking of nothing, when is the Rabbi coming to start the Purim story?"

"He said he will be running a bit late."

"How long ago was this?"

"About half an hour ago."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I donno, should I have?"

"We were waiting and thought he might have been in trouble."

"Is that why you were sitting here drinking and studying? Gaining pleasure?"

"Yes, so that if he died we could still feel happiness when we went to look for his body."

"The Rabbi isn't dead! And if he is, being drunk wouldn't help!"

"How do you know that, you haven't seen him for half an hour!"

"If I am lying may G-d send his corpse in here!"

With those words the Rabbi came in, starting a small stir among the drinkers. They instantly began asking the Rabbi how he died and when the funeral would be. The Rabbi assured them he was indeed alive and then directed them to begin preparation for the reading of the story of Esther. As the study group broke up, one of the members came over to Yamcha, "Gentile, finish your bottle and come, the Rabbi don't like vine in the main room."

Yamcha nodded and chugged it down, he then stood up and asked, "Why are we going in there?"

The Jew cackled and rubbed his hands together while saying, "This is the best part of the evening, we read the Purim story." He passed Yamcha a noise maker, "When Hamaan is sai-"

The men still in the room screamed and hollered at the mention of that name. "Shut up ya putzes! Anyway, when that name is said make a tuches ton of noise. Make so much noise that we all plotz!"

Yamcha agreed wholeheartedly. This sounded like an enjoyable time. He walked behind the man and they sat down. Some prayers were said with Yamcha following along and getting bored. Finally, they got to the story. Yamcha hadn't heard it before but this Ahasuerus sounded like a cool dude. He wouldn't mind throwing a feast that lasted a whole year. Then that guy Hamaan popped up, he was the head something in Ahasuerus's court. With his name said, the whole synagogue erupted into boos and jeers. The chazan looked annoyed until the yells stopped. He continued on in the story with everyone waiting for the next mention of that name. The next time, he said it quickly and low, trying to sneak it by them. The room erupted even louder for longer. As he continued reading, the chazan glared at each man in turn. He attempted to skip the name next time saying, the man, but the congregation caught his attempt and they erupted even louder and longer. Yamcha was now really enjoying himself. The pleasant fuzz of the alcohol, the fun everyone was having, this was just as good as the bar; he wondered if this was a regular event. The chazan tried again and again to sneak the name past the observant jews. Each and every time they caught his attempt and yelled for louder and longer.

The man beside Yamcha whispered to him after a particularly long interruption, "This happens every year. The chazan loves the sound of his own voice and hates interruptions. He has never gotten past us yet, but he is getting better."

As the sun came up, the chazan finally finished the book of Esther. They said the final prayers and dispersed. Yamcha joined a few more people polishing off the final bits of the open bottles. Within a few minutes, all of them had fallen asleep.

Yamcha awoke after a few hours with a nasty hangover. A few men were still around, nursing their hangover. He got up and grabbed his things.

Clutching his head, Yamcha walked back to his mansion. Puar met him at the door, face filled with concern. "Yamcha, are you alright? Where were you last night?"

"Man Puar those Jews know how to party. The wine they had was some of the best I ever drank. The dancing, it was great. But now, you have the hangover room?"

Puar nodded and Yamcha stumbled into the darkened room. If Jews partied like that every time, he would visit more, but for now, and he was out like a light.

...

 ** _A/N: And that's that, I hope you enjoyed the story, this is what happens when I watch to much Fiddler on the Roof. A few comments though. This is not accurate to actual tradition. TRADITION! Okay, I'll stop now. I moved some things around, for example the reading of Esther is not done drunk and is done earlier in the day with women and children. Though we actually do get sloshy drunk, well royal we, I am too young, but maybe this year._**

 ** _Another note, most of the Hebrew and Yiddish words are curse words, look em up with you want. The few I will translate are putz, a well meaning fool and chazan, the man who reads prayers. Tzeddikah means charity, which is a huge part of Judaism. The good book says that one who gives charity in secret is greater then Moshe. Mitzvot means a good deed._**

 ** _I hope y'all liked it! Now time to watch fiddler on the roof again, as the good book says, one must watch it as often as possible._**

 **This one-shot was brought to you by jonathin. stuart.**

 **Team Dragon Star is a collaborative effort headed by different authors to bring you stories just like this one. If you would like to join, visit our forums and apply there. It presents a great opportunity to develop your writing skills and join a community.**


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